


A Man of Purpose

by daiseypuppy (svana_vrika)



Category: Yami No Matsuei
Genre: Canon Related, Character Study, Childhood Memories, Community: 30_kisses, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-12-31
Updated: 2005-12-31
Packaged: 2018-01-05 14:00:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1094737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/svana_vrika/pseuds/daiseypuppy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tatsumi has always been driven by purpose</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Man of Purpose

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the LJ group "30kisses". Prompt was ‘ _Ano Sa_ (hey, you know..).
> 
> Disclaimer: The following is written solely for fun, and no infringement is intended. Yami no Matsuei and the scenarios and characters involved are the intellectual property of Yoko Matsushita.

Tatsumi was a man of purpose. Everything he did, from pinching pennies out of the lowliest shinigami’s budget to bullying Hakushaku of the Hall of Candles had its reason. 

He’d been a child of purpose, too. As a boy, he’d lived for his mother’s happiness. Her smile and laugh comprised his first memory, and he’d have done anything to be the one to elicit them. But, that seemed to be a privilege reserved for his father and younger sister. When she’d looked at Tatsumi, there had only been sadness and tears.

It was purely by accident that he’d ever found out why. His sister, who had been sickly since birth, had gone into a coughing fit, and he’d fetched her some of the honey, lemon and whisky remedy that they’d always kept prepared for the frequent spells. Once she’d calmed and had fallen asleep, he’d returned the bottle to the pantry, and then had dutifully gone to inform his parents of the bout. Even back then he’d prided himself on such things, secretly hoping that his mother would find some pleasure in his attention to detail. 

He’d heard the sound of their voices through the door, his father’s low, his mother’s soft… and tearful. However, instead of growing sad himself, it almost excited him; if she was already distressed, then perhaps his chances of earning a smile for his deed well done would increase. The logic was perfect; would have been for any young boy of nine. Nearly bursting with pride and anticipation he lifted his fist to knock, only to hear mention of his name. 

“How can you say that? Seiichiro is your son!” 

“I _know_ he is!” The young boy’s eyes had widened; it had been the first time he’d ever heard his refined mother raise her voice. “I _know_ he’s my son, and I want to love him, but I can’t. Every time I look at him, I see my father… hear his denial to my pleas for freedom and his cruel pronouncement of exile echo through my head. I wish I’d have never had a son!” she’d declared bitterly. “His very existence is a constant reminder of the life I had and the man who took it away from me.”

It was the first Tatsumi had known that he’d had grandparents, but the thought didn’t bring him any joy- only a vile hatred as strong as any adult’s for the one who had harmed his beloved mother so, and had denied him his right as her son to make her smile.

From that point on, he’d striven to learn all he could of his grandfather, and of this ‘other life’ he’d heard his mother mention. Even at nine he’d been canny; he’d known that asking her would only bring the woman sorrow, and going to his father would earn him a stern reprimand and a cuff to the ears for eavesdropping. So instead he’d taken to refining that art- lurking in the shadows, befriending the darker places of the house, eventually finding comfort and most definitely taking pride in the way he could make himself blend in unseen. 

The servants- the scant two that they’d had- had been his most fruitful of targets. It was from them that he’d learned of the royalty in his blood, and that his mother was a lady in every sense of the word- or that she should have been. Needless to say, that darkly muttered caveat had piqued his curiosity. However, the maids either hadn’t known what had happened, or the news to them had been too old to hash over further; they had, after all, been with his mother and father since well before his birth. But, it hadn’t deterred him. Patiently, he’d kept watch and listened, activities he’d once enjoyed like riding and playing with the other youths in the village falling to the wayside as, between his studies, this infinitely more important quest for knowledge had filled his time. And soon, the shadows had been the only comfort, the only friends he’d had left. 

He grew to memorize them all- which ones were darker and more concealing at what particular times of day, which ones would garner him the most knowledge for his efforts. And eventually, the story had pieced itself together: the prideful lord obsessed with a profitable marriage, the winsome commoner who had arrived and swept his mother off her feet, the pleas she’d made for the freedom to marry her beloved, the elopement, the disowning… the son who, down to his very mannerisms, was a mirror image of the man who had chosen his own gain over his daughter’s happiness and love.

By that time, Tatsumi had been a year older and his sister gravely ill. Doctor after doctor had been called, and each had said the same- that the girl had little time left and that nothing could be done. In denial, their coffers now drained, his parents had made one last, desperate attempt. Swallowing her pride, Tatsumi’s mother had sent her husband back to her father’s estate to plead for clemency, in the hope that his name might procure a physician from Tokyo. For days they’d waited for his father’s return, only to receive word of his death on the road within hours of Tatsumi’s sister passing away.

Mad in her grief, his mother had sequestered herself in her rooms, her anguished wails and crazed ranting hurting her son even more than his losses had. Even after she fell silent she’d remained isolated, refusing food and drink. Beside themselves in their own sorrow and worry, the servants, who had remained out of loyalty to their beloved lady, hadn’t concerned themselves with the boy, leaving Tatsumi to find his comfort and strength in the shadow of his mother’s door. 

From his new vantage point, he’d realized that there were words in his mother’s cries. Time and again he heard her plead for someone to kill her- to set her free from her miserable existence and rejoin her with her husband and daughter. “Release me from this farce of a life!” she’d beg the servants whenever they’d enter to tend to her. “”There’s nothing left for me here. If you love me and want to please me, then kill me and return me to them!” At first, the maids had fled as quickly as they could, their footsteps bordering on running when her sorrow would turn to rage over being denied. However, they’d soon become accustomed to the ranting and had begun to treat the spells with an almost careless resignation- to where, one afternoon, they’d been too busy clucking over ‘milady’s lunacy’ to realize they’d not firmly closed the door as they’d exited the room.

By then, it had been almost a month since Tatsumi had last seen his mother. Desperate for even just a glimpse of her, the ten-year-old boy had left the safety of his shadows and had stepped into the doorway, a choked “Mother” leaving his lips when he’d seen her grief-ravaged face. Instantly she’d whirled upon him, her screams falling silent as she’d gazed at him with haunted, lifeless eyes. “Seiichiro… You love Mother… don’t you?” she’d asked with an odd, breathless laugh as she’d opened her arms to the boy.

His “Yes, _oh_ yes,” nearly lost in his sob, Tatsumi had run to the woman, burying his face in her dress as she’d embraced him, reveling in the delicate scent of lilac that was especially hers, never noticing the madness in her smile. 

“You want Mother to be happy, don’t you… my son?” 

“Yes, Mother, more than anything!” he’d declared, his tears miraculously ceasing and his chest swelling with joy at the almost crooning tenderness of those two words. 

Abruptly, she’d moved away from him, her skirts making a comforting, swishing sound over the planked floors. Curious, yet not wanting to move lest he displease her, he’d watched her step to his father’s closet and open the door, his eyes widening when she’d turned to face him again with a fencing epee in her hand. 

Even before she’d spoken the words, he’d realized what she’d wanted him to do and at first, he’d vehemently refused- until he’d spied the fresh tears on her cheeks as she’d dropped to her knees to beg him. The realization that he’d brought her more suffering, that he had driven his noble mother to such a pathetic state had proven too much for the boy; with an anguished sob and a true aim he’d pierced her in the heart, a strange sense of peace filling his tormented soul when, as she’d drawn her last, that beautiful smile had graced her lips once again.

“Tatsumi…” The brunette started at hearing the voice, his head snapping up from where it had fallen to his chest when he’d dozed off. He wasn’t in Japan in the time of the shoguns, he realized as he blinked the sleep from his eyes. He was in Meifu, three days after the incident in Kyoto, and Tsuzuki had almost…

“Tsuzuki-san!” Tatsumi’s eyes widened when he finally realized who had addressed him. “Thank goodness you’re finally awake!” For a moment, he permitted himself to gaze at the smaller male’s beautiful face, a long-repressed yearning nearly resurfacing when he saw a blush kiss the other’s cheeks as the result of his scrutiny. “I’ll be right back,” he finally managed, forcing himself to turn away from the other’s bed. “I need to…” His breath caught, his entire façade threatening to crumble when he felt Tsuzuki’s hand on his arm. 

“Ano sa, Tatsumi…” 

The warmth in the Tsuzuki’s tone caused him to turn again, Tatsumi’s breath catching in his throat when the other offered him a grin, the gesture no less beautiful in its weakened state.

“Arigato, Tatsumi, for saving my life. Arigato…” As those beautiful amethyst eyes closed again, Tsuzuki’s hand fell away from the taller man’s arm, and Tatsumi gazed unabashedly at the beauty of that lingering smile. A familiar sense of peace easing his torment, he finally turned away to inform Kanoe and the others of the smaller male’s recovery, his mind already working out whose budget he could pinch from to cover the costs of the damage caused by Tsuzuki’s shikigami when they’d come to Meifu to protect their master in his madness .

Because ensuring that Tsuzuki Asato remained in JuOhCho and continued to smile was Tatsumi’s purpose.


End file.
